


Cold Winters Night

by Kiwifruitjuice



Category: Avengers, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Avengers Angst, F/M, Infinity War angst, M/M, Post-Infinity War, Steve Angst, Steve Needs a Hug, Stucky - Freeform, steve loves bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 01:35:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwifruitjuice/pseuds/Kiwifruitjuice
Summary: Steve wants to confess his feelings to Bucky, but something always comes up.





	Cold Winters Night

It was the slight touches. The brush of Bucky’s heated skin pressed against the small of his back, every time Bucky insisted the air was too cool for Steve to sleep alone. Steve shivered under his thin blanket, the best they could afford on their tiny wages, and always waited silently for Bucky to quietly climb out of bed and join himself next to Steve. Steve relished in the warm heat that surrounded himself whenever Bucky wrapped his muscled arms around his waist, toned from working the docks for so many years. Bucky’s torso almost blanketed Steve’s as it was, and Bucky always made sure to bring his blanket and wrap both covers around them softly. 

“Don’t want you gettin’ sick,” Bucky would mumble, settling himself before falling asleep after a hard days work. 

Sometimes, Steve would keep his eyes open, forcing himself to stay awake in order to appreciate the warmth. For a while, it was nothing more than being thankful that, for once, he didn’t have to suffer in the cold his body always felt. 

But soon Steve had noticed his eyes always drifted towards Bucky’s face as he slept. His face was usually clean, if Steve remembered to remind him to wash the grime off his face. His eyelashes rested softly, eyes twitching ever so slightly as he dreamt. His mouth remained slack, but would occasionally drift up if his dreams were good. Steve could never stop roaming his eyes around Bucky’s masculine, perfect face, shining from slight sweat and the moonlight peeking behind the thin window curtain. It was a type of beauty Steve hadn’t appreciated since he would stare up at his ma, as she rocked him as a child. 

Steve knew early on these feelings weren’t innocent - were far from normal. He’d admit he’d never been lucky with the girls, with his tiny frame and stumbled words, but he’d had crushes before. 

None had ever been as intense as the fluttery feeling floating in his stomach whenever he glanced at Bucky. 

At first, it was only then. Only on the nights when Bucky’s warm breath hit his cheek did Steve allow himself to stare at his friend freely. 

But as winter passed, those nights dwindled. Occasionally a cool spring night would drive Bucky to Steve’s side, but soon summer had arrived, and it was always boiling. 

So every night, Steve’s body felt cold for an entirely new reason. 

As July rolled past, as slow as ever, Steve grew irritated. He missed the tight feeling his chest got whenever Bucky wrapped his arms around his, and the airy feeling his stomach got whenever Steve’s eyes were inches away from Bucky’s. 

Many pencils were dwindled to nothing, their lead having drawn nothing but Steve’s best friend in as many positions and styles Steve could think of. A couple of times, his hands had betrayed him and drawn Bucky in less than innocent cloth, and almost none at all that one time. 

Steve didn’t dare keep that drawing. The rest, he couldn’t muster the strength to destroy, and instead hid them about the house where he knew Bucky wouldn’t find them. 

Steve wasn’t ashamed of his feelings, that while he knew they were unorthodox in the eyes of the public, his ma had taught him better than that. It was more that Bucky was obviously busy. 

Every so often Steve would convince himself to confess his feelings to Bucky, sure the small smiles and airy touches he received meant something. And then-

And then Bucky would come home late, with a worried sick Steve waiting anxiously on the couch, with a dame hung on his arm. His loud laughing, bright smile and his tight grip on the dames waist as he led the pair to his room- it hurt. Steve knew what he felt each time was hurt, a deep, searing pain in his gut that didn’t fade until the woman had left the next morning. Steve had always told Bucky he was fine on the couch those nights, but Steve never felt as lonely and terrible as he did then. 

For years Steve pinned for his best friend, silently. He knew even if- one day- he did throw it all on the table, it wouldn’t matter. Bucky had only ever been kind-shown those smiles and given those airy touches, to Steve. 

Then, Steve had been forced to consider it had nothing to do with feelings. That perhaps- Bucky was simply treating Steve as a delicate flower he couldn’t hurt. 

And that hurt. It made his stomach so tight and his head so heavy he had trouble keeping it up sometimes. He’d spent his summer days not eating, not sleeping, alone in his bed or covering his ears on the couch, never daring to approach a girl a day in his life. She would never compete with Bucky. 

And then everything was happening; the army, Bucky missing, the serum, and Peggy. 

Peggy was the first girl Steve chased. Something about her- her determined attitude and her amazing kindness, made Steve’s chest flutter again. And it was nice- to feel that flutter again instead of that aching pain Bucky left on accident. 

Everything had happened so fast, it all seemed a flurry of shows, and soldiers, and the feeling of Peggy’s lips pressed against his own- it was exciting. 

And then the train, and the awful gut wretch Steve’s stomach produced as his eyes followed Bucky’s as he fell into the cold waters. And at that moment, none of it was worth it. The regret- the regret that Steve felt at never having told his best friend how he felt- it was unbearable. Smashing chairs and the burning alcohol in his throat did nothing when he closed his eyes and saw everything- the couch, the girls, the train, Peggy- it was too much. 

The nights were cold. Steve’s body felt so cold even when it wasn’t shivering. The absence of that warmth that drove Steve to that amazing feeling in his chest, was almost killing. 

Steve had cried, softly, when he realized even Peggy’s touch didn’t produce that feeling, not as strong as Bucky did. He had cried when he knew he’d never have that perfect feeling ever again. 

But he was determined to get it back, and Peggy was still here, and she was a beautiful, brave woman, and Steve could make it work. Steve did love her, and he knew she could make that feeling come back. 

But then the plane, and the hurt in Peggy’s voice as Steve approached the water, and Steve was glad all he felt was freezing water filling his body, and he had an excuse to feel cold again. 

When he woke up, he was thrust into the team, and Tony, and the Avengers. He ignored the hurt in his stomach, about everything he had lost, including that feeling, to focus on bettering the world. It was the one thing he could still do, and he would do it well- to honour Peggy, and Bucky, and his ma, and everyone else he loved. 

As the years passed and he settled with his team, his stomach lightened. Peggy passed, and he dealt with that horrible, aching feeling as he cried in the stairwell, but he had Natasha this time, and Sam. And he had Peggy’s last words to him, and the reassurance she had lived happy. He had friends at least, and while he missed Bucky, he was starting to, after many years, accept his death. 

And then Bucky was back, and so was that horrible feeling. Everything about him was different, but not even Hydra could erase those piercing eyes Steve loved and those soft lips Steve had stared at so many nights. Even if it was longer, Steve remembered how soft his hair felt against his fingertips, the slight brown colour that meshed perfectly with his tone. He was the Winter Soldier to everyone, but to Steve, he was Bucky- his best friend, the man who held him when he was cold, took him in when he was alone, fed him and praised his drawings, joined him at his ma’s funeral- the man he loved. 

Steve loved Bucky. He was in love with Bucky. He knew that, had known that for years, and he couldn’t let the man he loved live like this, live in prison. So he fought, against his team, against Tony, against everything he’d ever had, to gain back the one thing he’d always wanted- Bucky. The warmth. That wonderful feeling he had first gotten next to Bucky on a cold winter’s night. 

And after so long, after the fight, and Wakanda, and Bucky’s slow and gradual return to his mind, his memories flooding back to him and his excited voice as he told Steve something new he’d remembered again, Steve felt good. It wasn’t that feeling, but it was good. A hint of that warmth he’d missed for so many years edged at his stomach. 

Steve wasn’t going to make this mistake again, and prepared himself to finally, finally, tell Bucky how he felt. But the war with Thanos grew so quickly, and Steve knew he couldn’t risk opening up that bomb during the midst of the worst threat to humanity of all time, so he waited. He fought the war, amidst everything bad happening in his life- but he had Bucky. Through everything he had Bucky, and he had the hope that when this was all over, Bucky would know how he felt.

And then that loud, echoing snap- and the quiet, slow realization of what had just been done. 

Steve looked onward at Bucky as his eyes met his, and heard the soft, scared “Steve?” escape Bucky’s mouth as he dissolved. 

The world was quiet as Steve’s hands held a handful of the ashes. The silence, the lack of Steve’s confession, filled Steve’s head until it hurt his ears. He couldn’t force himself to produce tears, or cry out to the silence. He just stared at the ashes of his best friend, of the man he loved, that he had just gotten back.

Steve’s stomach was heavy. It was empty, and so cold. As the world screamed around him, and his remaining friends gathered themselves to search for others, Steve held his stomach, closed his eyes, and thought of that airy, wonderful feeling as his heart turned cold again

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my drafts for months because I didn’t think it was good enough to post but have it anyway I guess lmao


End file.
